


this is worth fighting for

by rivkael



Series: the days after [3]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking & Talking, Gen, The Stormrage twins content we need, its not alcohol or anything, mentions of things from the 'the speaker' comic, please just let these boys rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivkael/pseuds/rivkael
Summary: Illidan's battle is over.Malfurion's has just begun.(Set shortly after the annihilation of the Burning Throne and Argus)





	this is worth fighting for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flyingllamas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingllamas/gifts).



> for Shira, who's been having a shitty few days and is a literal angel

It was cold enough that even demon hunters felt the chill in the air. Dalaran was, after all, a few hundred feet up. The campfires that dotted their floating island were the only sources of heat, and the non demon hunters of the group huddled close. 

 

Lying on the grass near the edge with his wings relaxed behind him, Illidan watched the scene. The Bladesong sisters; his Slayer, the Deathlord and a priestess, were sitting together, laughing. A pandaren was walking between the groups, offering refreshments from a cart to the revellers, followed by a kaldorei who looked to be a monk by the movements of energy through her body. Kor’vas, Kayn and Allari, teasing each other and leaping over one of the smaller campfires. Even the most militaristic of the demon hunters were here, eating and celebrating the defeat of the Legion.

 

… and that was just it. What was he supposed to do now? Returning had been framed nicely enough when Sargeras had just impaled himself rather than be imprisoned by his fellow titans. But already, people looked at Illidan with unease. That would only grow as the high of the victory wore off. 

 

A chirp broke his thought process, and he looked over to see… his brother in the form of a bird. Illidan smirked and reached over to pull the feathered being closer. “Come, brother.”

 

The bird came willingly enough, and then shapeshifted, so Illidan suddenly had a lap and an armful of Malfurion. Several armfuls really; neither of the Stormrage brothers were small. Malfurion reached up and touched Illidan’s horns, then trailed his fingers over the blindfold. “How are your druids? Is Val’sharah calming?” Illidan asked as he did this. 

 

The druid’s mouth twisted. “It’s one disaster after another.” He admitted. “You recall the sword Sargeras… well, stuck in Silithus? The Cenarion Circle are going to be investigating and seeing if they can contain the damage, along with the Earthen Ring. I leave tomorrow night.”

 

Looking at his brother’s annoyed and tired face, Illidan frowned too. “Are you not permitted even few more nights?” It had been only a month since the Nightmare, and most of Val’sharah was still in chaos. Malfurion was likely the only one who could effectively unite them and bring forwards new leaders to each of the orders. 

 

A few people were probably staring, he thought idly. It didn’t matter. Now that he and Malfurion had reconciled, nothing would keep them apart.

 

Malfurion sighed, and leaned against Illidan more fully. “I would have left this morning but I wanted to tell you in person,” he explained gently. “And Val’sharah can wait a few weeks. According to Magni Bronzebeard, Azeroth is screaming.”

 

Azeroth, their  _ world _ ,  _ screaming _ . An old part of Illidan, the part of him that was still that boy in Val’sharah ten thousand years ago, shuddered. “Can you hear it?” He asked softly. The idea of Malfurion having to hear something of that magnitude horrified him. His brother shook his head, and Illidan let out a breath of relief.

 

“All is not well, though. Nature shudders. There is… unrest. The silithid are leaving the ruins of Ahn’Qiraj for the first time in years. Naralex went on ahead and he says the earth is  _ reeling _ , Illidan.” Malfurion’s voice was almost pleading as Illidan tightened his embrace and lifted his wings to offer them both some privacy. This sounded oddly similar to a dream he’d had the day before. “There is something  _ deeply _ wrong, and I don’t even know if it can be fixed, but I must try.” 

 

“Of course,” Illidan agreed, resting his chin on the top of his brother’s head. “I cannot see it as you do, but I believe you. I think I have been true-dreaming.” Before he could explain further, he realised a pandaren and kaldorei were walking towards them, the pandaren pushing a refreshment cart. He lowered his wings so that Malfurion could see.

 

“Would either of you care for a drink?” The pandaren asked in accented common. 

 

Illidan cleared his throat. “What do you have?” He could see the mana-rich colours of Arcwine, but otherwise the liquids and powders were all pretty much identical to his spectral sight. 

 

The pandaren had obviously been asked this several times and replied promptly. “We have teas from anywhere you might think of, pretty much all weak and medium alcohols, Arcwine, coffee from Northrend, along with morning glory dew, various fruit juices, and of course water and hot chocolate,” she turned to smile at the kaldorei beside her. “And Cristen brought chocolate chip muffins direct from Shattrath City.”

 

Malfurion shifted to look more closely. “Hot chocolate for myself, if you would,” he requested. Cristen the kaldorei shot him a grin and set to mixing the powder into a mug for him. Illidan considered for a few more moments.

 

Something simple and refreshing, he decided. “Do you have melon juice?” 

 

The pandaren quickly poured him a cup as Malfurion’s drink was handed over. The kaldorei offered them both a respectful salute before going back to the cart. 

 

Illidan sipped his juice. Somehow, the pandaren had procured a cup that fit nicely in his hands, rather than looking ridiculously small as most crockery tended to. 

 

“You said true-dreaming?” Malfurion had re-arranged himself to look at Illidan more directly as the pair headed away. “What did you see?”

 

Illidan snorted. “See is a strong word. It was a dream of  _ sound _ , brother. I do not often dream in images anymore.” He drained the rest of his juice and set the cup aside in time to see guilt and pity cross his brother’s face and aura. Feathers from Malfurion’s arms ruffled slightly against his skin. “It is not your fault,” He added. “It’s just how fate chose.” Malfurion wasn’t exactly comforted, but calmed himself as best he could, if only for his brother’s sake.

 

“What did you… dream, then?”

 

Illidan involuntarily tightened his grip on Malfurion. “A long, unending scream- no, a wail. The cry of someone injured with no hope and no choice but to wait, in the dark, to die. Too injured to remain silent, but devoid of the hope that anyone will hear. I thought at first… that it was a memory.” He pressed his mouth and nose against Malfurion’s hair, inhaling the clean scent as his wings pulled in involuntarily. 

 

Malfurion leaned backwards in order to loop an arm around Illidan’s waist, and then pressed his hair carefully into Illidan’s face, letting his brother take what comfort he could. Guild clawed at him once again, and he did his best to silence it. “Hush, brother. I am here,” he murmured, rubbing small circles on Illidan’s back and feeling tears well up. “We’re okay.” 

 

A quiet whine from in front of them made the pair turn to see the Slayer, holding the Deathlord’s hand and looking unhappy. “Yes?” Malfurion asked quietly. 

 

She dropped her sibling’s hand and rushed to join the hug before Illidan could even think to stop her. Plastering herself to Illidan’s side, she began cooing into his ear, wings tucked tightly to her back so as to take up as little space as possible.

 

“Riv-!” the Deathlord exclaimed, folding their arms.

 

“...it’s okay,” Illidan rumbled to his Slayer gently. “My brother and I are talking about emotional things.” She huffed and headbutted him in the shoulder, poking him lightly with her stubby horns, then turned to Malfurion.

 

“Be. Kind.” It wasn’t a request. Malfurion blinked a few times.

 

“Always, Slayer Bladesong,” he promised, offering a smile to the young Demon Hunter. Her ears pinned to her head for a moment, and then she offered a fanged grin back at him before crawling back to her sibling. Illidan leaned his chin on Malfurion’s head once more, mindful of the antlers.

 

There were a few moments of silence. “...if you have been true-dreaming of Azeroth, perhaps you should come with me,” Malfurion suggested. “At the very least, speak to Bronzebeard about it.”

 

Illidan hummed. “I could not leave the Illidari, currently,” he said regretfully. “They are too nervous, now that the Legion is defeated. We need a  _ purpose _ .”

 

Malfurion leaned against Illidan more fully, sighing. “I don’t suppose you could bring them with you?” he asked. His feathers twitched against Illidan’s arms and he brought his knees in slightly, curling up more tightly on his brother.

 

Illidan shook his head for a moment, then- “Well, we have no purpose, now. Guarding you and the Earthen Ring would probably be a good way to protect Azeroth.” Hope bloomed within him. He might get to be with Malfurion for longer! “But we could not leave straight away and there are over a hundred of us, surely-”

 

“A small army to fight the silithid, brother,” Malfurion headbutted his shoulder, careful with his antlers. “Trust me, it would be appreciated. How long would you need to mobilise?”

 

The large demon hunter pulled back his wings slightly to show his brother where some of the Illidari were piled. “I shouldn’t think more than a few days. Most of the ones not here are just a portal away. I would have to leave some with the Fel Hammer… but if the shivarra can portal to Dalaran they can portal to Silithus.”

 

“Those are shivarra sworn to you, yes?”

 

Illidan nodded. “The majority of them were killed in the assault on the Black Temple… before. A small force is still with me, however. Perhaps thirty of them in total,” he explained. “The spellcasters in my demon hunters learn from them.” He loosened his hold on Malfurion and began to run his fingers through his brother’s long, thick hair. It was warm to the touch and soft, and fell heavily past his antlers and ears.

 

“Hmm,” Malfurion’s eyes slid shut. “I’d suggest not… ahem, not bringing demons with you, but I doubt anyone would object to a portal.” He was involuntarily relaxing, his thoughts calming down.

 

Illidan nodded, smiling lightly as his brother began to lean on him more heavily. “I will come, then. Rest, brother. I am here,” he rumbled, shifting his legs to get comfortable as Malfurion began to nod off. "Nothing will touch you."

  
  



End file.
